關(guān)于秋天的英文詩(shī)欣賞
秋天是美麗的。秋天像一幅畫(huà)，秋天像一首詩(shī)，秋天像一首歌，秋天像一個(gè)美麗的童話。學(xué)習(xí)啦小編整理了關(guān)于秋天的英文詩(shī)，歡迎閱讀!
關(guān)于秋天的英文詩(shī)篇一
Autumn Fires
by Robert Louis Stevenson
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
關(guān)于秋天的英文詩(shī)篇二
《forever autumn》
So,the season of the fall begins
Down the crossroads in a sleepy little inn
By the fire when the sun goes down
But the night becomes you
And the secrets of the rain
Forever autumn
And the season of the fall begins
Out the nightlands when the thunderstorm sets in
The secrets clear in the cloudy night
But the night becomes you
And the secrets of the rain,they will stay the same
And the time will come soon
With the secrets of the rain,and the storm again
Coming closer every day,forever autumn
And the season of the fall begins
Past the passingbell,past willow weeping
A ripple forms on the brinks of time
But the night becomes you
And the secrets of the rain,they will stay the same
And the time will come soon
With the secrets of the rain,and the storm again
Coming closer every day,forever autumn
關(guān)于秋天的英文詩(shī)篇三
To Autumn
by John Keats J.
1
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun,
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd,and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more,later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
2
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair sort-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Dows’d with the fume of poppies,while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press,with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
3
Where are the songs of Spring?Ay,where are they?
Think not of them,thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a waiful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows,borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles form a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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